


a lost thing returning

by dustyveins



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky is sorting through trauma and Sam Gets It, Everyone Has Trauma, Gen, Haircuts, I'm projecting again, Platonic Relationships, Sam Wilson Is A Good Friend, Steve isn't really in it but he's mentioned, the intimacy of haircuts, the promo photos for TFATWS had me fucked up obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-01 07:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20810987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyveins/pseuds/dustyveins
Summary: These are the things you can't go back to: the time when things seemed simple.  The time when you remembered things with ease and you came home to Steve, asleep on the couch, sketchbook draped over his chest, and you'd wet your hands and run them through your hair and let it hang down, curling around your temples.Sometimes you lose things.  Some lost things don't ever come back.





	a lost thing returning

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here for plot: reconsider. If you're here for rumination on the intimacy of haircuts: you have come to the right place. I'm projecting again, but as one touch starved gay who gets haircuts at home: this is legit.
> 
> Honestly, the bio for this could have been "(do you ever just yearn?.jpg)" and it would have been just as accurate.

You used to cut his hair after his mama got sick. She taught you how before she had to go to the hospital, before things got so bad she could hardly get out of bed. You had been watching her for years and thinking about the feel of his hair, how soft it might be, and you cut it for him.

You had a barber, back then, when your family had money and his didn't. He didn't want you paying for him to go, and you cut his hair the night before the funeral and you remember pretending not to notice when he cried.

You remember a lot of things, now.

You remember his hair was fine and silky soft and it slipped through your fingers like water, like it wasn't even there. He kept his hair a little longer then, un-styled because it refused to hold no matter how much you both tried.

You remember how you used to look when you looked in the mirror and you don't recognize the guy you see now but you wish you did. Steve told you once that you can never go back, that all you can do is keep going forward, but he did go back. He did, so why can't you?

Sam catches you pulling at your hair, staring at your reflection in the kitchen window, dishes sitting abandoned in the sink.

"Thinking about cutting it?" he asks. You shrug. You don't want strangers touching you anymore. Sam seems to know this, like some kind of instinct. You wonder if he gets it and you think that maybe he does.

"I can help you," he offers, leaning against the kitchen counter.

You look at him, hand dropping from your hair, but you don't say anything.

"I used to cut Riley's hair, back in the day. Drove him crazy having it hang in his face, y'know?"

You nod, a jaunty thing. He smiles, pushes off the counter.

"Just let me know."

You look back at your reflection in the window and then look down, going back to the dishes. The voice in your head that sounds like Steve says, you can't go back.

It hurts to hear. You bury it down, nestled deep next to all the promises and reassurances and the memory of Becca's laugh. These are the things you can't go back to: the time when things seemed simple. The time when you remembered things with ease and you came home to Steve, asleep on the couch, sketchbook draped over his chest, and you'd wet your hands and run them through your hair and let it hang down, curling around your temples.

Sometimes you lose things. Some lost things don't ever come back.

\--

A few days later you come out of the bathroom, hair still damp. You're tired of not knowing who you are, of wishing you could remember the things that are gone and forget the things that haunt. Sam's sitting on the couch with his laptop.

"Sam?" you say softly.

"Yeah?" he replies, glancing over at you.

"Do you think… do you think you could cut my hair?"

"Sure," Sam says, putting his laptop on the coffee table.

"Are you busy?" you ask, belated.

"Not particularly," he replies, and he puts his laptop to sleep. He gets up and smiles again and says, "I have some stuff in the bathroom cabinet."

"Okay," you say, and you turn around and head back into the bathroom. You close the lid on the toilet and sit down. Sam pulls a bag out of the cabinet under the sink.

"How do you want it to look?" Sam asks.

"Uh," you say, suddenly nervous. You want it the way you used to cut it, but you don't know how to explain that to Sam. You can't go back.

"Short? Like all the pictures?" he guesses. You get that feeling again, like he knows something about you that you would never want to reveal, some vulnerable, scared part of you.

You nod, biting the inside of your lip.

"Alright," he says, and he grabs a towel and tells you to wrap it around your shoulders so you do.

When he makes the first cut it's like a weight being dropped and you feel inexplicably lighter. You don't make a sound, but it's a close thing. It's nice, having his hands in your hair, and you wonder if Steve used to feel like this too. If Steve used to get this feeling in his stomach, this warm curling, this prickly feeling all over his skin. You sink into the feeling and let yourself have something nice.

Sam makes quick work of it and his fingers are soft where they touch you. They brush gently against your neck and your ears and your forehead.

You hear the clippers turn on and your eyes slip shut. They rumble against the back of your neck.

A few minutes pass and the clippers switch off again. Sam runs his hands through your hair a few times and you feel the little pieces of hair fall down across your face.

"Alright," he says softly, and you can feel him back away from the sudden coldness at your back.

You open your eyes, blinking back into the moment.

"Take a look," he says.

You get up and walk to the mirror and you recognize yourself for once. A lost thing returning. Foreign and familiar.

"It looks good," Sam says. "Not to toot my own horn."

You look at him in the reflection and you smile. You can't go back. You don't even want to.

Some things are worth sticking around for.

**Author's Note:**

> [Kyra](https://twitter.com/deviiscrime) made me do it.
> 
> Okay, that's not true, but I did torture her with this for ages before even considering posting it. It was untitled at the time and they used to call it "you used to cut his hair" because that's what the doc preview said. Thank you, Kyra, for letting me bully you with my writing.
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_sneganno) or [tumblr](https://sourbottlebaby.tumblr.com) and chat with me about marvel and/or longing.


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